Bella's Wishes are Law
by septentrion
Summary: After his conversation with Jacob, Edward's imagination goes a little wild. Clearly, his mind is his worst enemy.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything about the Twilight series. _

_My gratitude goes to Juno Magic, who helped me so much to write something sounding both like English and like Edward./i_

_"If she wants a child, that's what she gets. I won't rescind."_ Edward, p183 of Breaking Dawn.

* * *

Bella's dying, and it's my fault. If I had been able to let her go, she would be healthy now, perhaps even happy in spite of her assurances to the contrary. It's so like Bella, to take another's needs and wants into consideration before her own. And right now, the needs and wants she is taking in consideration are those of that… _thing?_ growing in her womb and sucking the life out of her, the thing that is leaving bruises on her perfect skin and that is literally starving her to skin and bones.

I've been so selfish, I've wanted her so much that I've made myself believe she had no interest in children, that becoming a mother was of no consequence to her. Of course, I've been a fool once more. Most human females want a child, even those who claim the contrary, especially when faced with the reality of pregnancy. Bella is no different; she is only human after all. But I cannot lose her, not now that I've had her. No, I must amend that thought: I cannot let her die and lose her for good. I would make any sacrifice to keep her alive, give her anything. Anything, really. Including a child. But not i_my_/i child, because a child of mine would kill her. A self-deprecating snort echoes in my head: am I bound to cause Bella's demise whatever course of action I choose? No. I will fight fate, I will fight with all my might and strength to keep her alive and give her what she wants, for there is nothing more important than Bella alive and happy.

_"If she wants a child, that's what she gets. I won't rescind," _I tell Jacob, who loves her nearly as much as I do.

Of course the dog has caught on what I am hinting at, more than caught on actually. I can say he's a bit disturbed by the idea, but he sees the appeal of what I'm proposing as well. I've been hearing his thoughts about it for too many minutes now, and if Bella's life hasn't been on the line, I would have snapped his neck already. Or perhaps not. Bella wouldn't have been pleased with me, and I only live—so to speak—to please her, to love her, to make her happy. But she needs to be alive for that. Seeing her like that is killing me. If she doesn't survive, I won't either, the dog promised me that. But if she consents to live, I'll make sure she has everything she wants, no question asked. If she wants a baby, or babies, she'll get it, or them, even if I have to let the dog paw her; even if I have to let her go once more. I shudder at the idea, but I love her enough to do that.

* * *

Jacob and Bella are alone in the house; the dog is trying to convince her to live, to give up on the thing that inhabits her. It's a lost cause, though. Bella is the most stubborn girl I've ever met. She's made her mind up about the thing, and nothing can make her budge. Yet I can't help but try. The dog is no better; he tries too.

The walls of the house are too thin to prevent my vampire senses from hearing what Bella and Jacob are saying, but I don't want to listen to her refusal, so I try to shield my mind from their conversation. The thoughts of my family members are no help; they're full of pity for me, worry for Bella, anticipation for the birth of the thing. I need to block them, so I concentrate on my plan for Bella's happiness, how she'd be healthy and glowing and round with a human child that would give her more than it would take from her. And how she'd get to that point.

I must be the most masochistic vampire on earth. My imaginative mind, fueled by decades of reading lascivious minds, be they human or vampire, supplies images that tear my non-existent heart to shreds so acutely that I feel it in my stony flesh and fossilized bones. I imagine her leaving me in our bedroom. I would, unsuccessfully, try not to brood, and looking at me, she would fail at hiding feelings of guilt. Without a word—what could you say in such a situation?—she would trudge down the stairs carefully but her clumsiness would catch up with her and she would stumble. She would go out of the house and head to the garage, and I would hear her footfall on the gravel. She would climb into the _Guardian_, her "before" car, the car I've provided her with while she's still human and so fragile. I would hear the engine of the car come to life. She would drive slowly, as if reluctant to go and obtain from him, Jacob the dog, the child she desires so much. But maybe that would be just her being cautious; she has admitted she still needs to adjust to the car's reactivity.

Where would they meet? Somehow I doubt they'd meet in La Push, where the dog lives with his father. The resident pack of werewolves wouldn't be thrilled by Bella's presence on their territory in spite of her still being human. Charlie's house would be out of the question, too. The risk of being caught by her father would be too great, and no one would be willing to explain to Charlie why his married daughter was having sex under his roof with her former "boyfriend". Perhaps they'd opt for that cheap motel outside of town… No, more probably they'd go to Port Angeles to fend off the gossip in Forks. There are cheap motels there as well.

I'm pretty sure the dog would arrive first and book a room. Bella would never muster that boldness; she would stammer so much the receptionist wouldn't understand one word. So she would go right to the room, where he would be waiting for her. He would probably have even sent the room number on her cell phone to save her the embarrassment to ask for it. I can imagine her sitting in her car on the parking lot of the hotel, staring at her cell phone screen. Her heart beating wildly, her palms sweaty—she would need a minute or two to compose herself, to fight the guilt. Then she would climb out of the car before she could lose her courage and drive back to me. She would know that allowing her to be with him would hurt me, but that watching her die was worse, so much worse… And I know, and she knows—and even the wolf knows by now—that in the end, in the end she will come back to me, always me and not him. I sigh.

At length she would enter the room. Hopefully, without tripping over her feet between her car and the door.

"Hello, Jacob," she says softly, with that hint of uncertainty in her voice. She stands in the middle of the room, midway between the bed and the door, shuffling her feet like a miscreant pupil called in the principal's office. A lovely blush spreads on her cheeks, and the mere thought of it makes me want to kiss her.

Jacob is lounging on the bed, with an air of assurance that I know he doesn't really feel.

"Hello, Bella." He stands up and reaches for her hand with gentleness, but also with eagerness. "How are you?" Small talk to divert her attention from the event to come. As if Bella could ever be so easily distracted.

"I'm fine, thanks. And you?"

A small chuckle. "I'm fine too."

He tugs on her hand slightly and leads her to the edge of the bed. Once they're seated, he starts to speak about this and that, the pack, what's happening at La Push, trying to relax her. More small talk. And now she welcomes it because she needs the distraction. Slowly, Jacob's hands finds their way to Bella's body.

"Leah's decided she'll go to university, werewolf stuff be damned." His hand glides up along her arm.

"Billy bought a new fishing rod at Newton's. The thing was damn expensive." He snakes his arm around Bella's shoulders and brings her flush against his side, and she melts against his heated flesh, so much hotter than mine. Would she prefer his warmth to the coldness of my own body? How would it compare to her? Already I fear the answer to that question.

"Did you know the guys who put Forks high school on fire were caught?" He exhales upon her neck, sending his warm living breath over her pale skin, rubbing against her and marking her with his scent. I hope he can still smell mine on her and that it chokes him. She shivers in answer, perhaps even tilts her head aside to give him more room. Her neck is so sensitive. Now it's my turn to shiver. I'm afraid I'll never have the opportunity to inhale her sweet flowery scent ever again, and just the anticipation of this would-be memory is enough to make me ache for her.

He stops speaking. He showers her neck and collarbone with small scorching kisses. Bella's heartbeat accelerates and she pants. Once already she has melted into his embrace the day Victoria and her newborns attacked, and she still loves him; how could she resist his advances, knowing that she has my blessing? Yet I like to imagine that a flash of guilt crosses her features, that she thinks of me when she is in his arms, and that she compares my coldness to his heat. I like to imagine that I win. But I can't give her that last human experience she asked me for before I change her: being a mother, carrying a child in her womb. To have a child she would love with all her heart even when her heart would cease to beat, a child I would love with all my might simply because it would be hers. And wouldn't it be better if she could receive that gift from someone who really loves her, and whom she cares for, too, than from a random stranger who gave his sperm for money?

And the dog loves her more than life itself. It shows in his eyes, warm, darkened by his lust and his intense feelings; it shows in the way he moves his hands on Bella's body. I can't deny that he worships her as she deserves—and she is still fully clothed.

"Jake," she moans when he sucks that spot on her neck, _my_ spot, where I can smell the fine bouquet of her blood. I'll kill him if he leaves a mark. It's bad enough that my family knows what is happening—we would have to explain how Bella got pregnant with a perfectly human child after all—but I won't let him brand her. She is mine, as much as I am hers. Luckily for him, the dog keeps himself in check and moves his mouth on.

"Bella, you're so beautiful," he whispers as he contemplates her breasts framed by her now opened blouse and very simple cotton bra. His tone is reverent. I expect nothing less from him. Of course, Bella blushes with the compliment, and I nearly roll my eyes. His warm hands reach for Bella's breasts and cup them. She winds her hands around his neck to support herself. She can't stay upright, she is overwhelmed by the tenderness expressed in his gesture, though I am convinced that I show as much, if not more tenderness when I worship her breasts. I can't help but picture myself pushing the dog's hands away and replace them with my own, as if I were there with them. What am I thinking? That I would partake in their activities? I chase that preposterous idea away, only to have it come back at me. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to be there if things ever come to this. I could make sure Bella doesn't forget how much I love her and how she loves me more than him. It would be a struggle not to rip the mutt's throat, but I think we could both behave for Bella's sake. Or probably not. It is enough of a hardship to imagine his paws pushing down the sleeves of Bella's blouse together with her bra straps. I ball my hands into fists; I should be the only one to ever bare her delicate, pale skin and to kiss it delicately.

_Enough_, I admonish myself. What good will come of letting my mind run wild with visions of my beloved in the arms of another? The trouble is, I can't stop myself. It doesn't help that I remember the fantasies the dog entertained that night when he held Bella to keep her warm while she slept. My mind is a poison worse than my venom; if I could be sick, I would be.

What could I distract myself with? I decide to go for a short run. Perhaps the speed will help clear my head. I jump over the river behind the house and take off into the woods. But soon it is obvious that this is a hopeless endeavour.

…Bella is now naked from her chin to her waist in my disgusting daydream, and Jacob trails his long tan fingers against her skin. Meanwhile, his mouth caresses her lovely breasts, breasts destined to feed a little human being one day. Right, let's not forget that this is all about getting a child for Bella. But the image is so vivid, it's as though I am standing in the motel room, acting like a reluctant voyeur. Why can't I stay away?

"Does this feel good?" the dog asks with his face buried in Bella's cleavage. He is panting with his lust.

"Yesss," is her answer. Her eyes closed, she is propped on her hands, slightly leaning backwards on the pale pink coverlet of the bed. Her arms must ache from bearing her weight; I long to kneel behind her to support her delectable body with mine and feel the smooth skin of her back against my torso. Bella never complains about the coldness of my body. Actually, she seems to get hot whenever and wherever we touch. It isn't natural, but maybe, maybe she was made to be with an unnatural creature. But she wasn't made to carry an unnatural child, a monster, a thing that kills her with each of its moves. And I'm the monster responsible for her current state. I will be responsible for her death if she refuses to let Carlisle and me to take care of that abnormality dwelling in her womb. Well, I shan't be long behind her, Jacob has promised me as much already.

By the way, has he managed to convince her to let go of it?

Those thoughts quell my sick fantasies about the mutt making love to my Bella at last. I run back to the house to find out what her decision is, though really, there isn't much suspense here. Bella is too stubborn; she has probably dug in her heels and flat out refused to get rid of the thing.

I reach the front door. I hear two heartbeats, one stronger than the other. Bella and the thing. The mutt has left then, and my family's thoughts inform me that they are scattered around the house, but Bella, my beloved wife, is alone. I prepare myself to come in and resume my place near her. Faced with her refusal to live, the least I can offer her is to not let her die alone.


End file.
